Courtly Love
by aorin
Summary: What if the person you love is presumely dead? Would you continue to wait for him or would you settle on the arranged marriage forced unto you?
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** Do I look like I own Final Fantasy XII? Yes, I own a copy of the game (and some merchandise) and that's about it.

**A/N:** This is my first attempt at fanfic, so cut me some slack. Please read and review.

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**Courtly Love**

Prologue

Never in her mind would she have thought the discussion that day would lead to the series of event which followed; as some would say fate works in mysterious ways.

Promenading down the queen's path for five years, the continuous routine of morning audience with her ministers had become almost like a second nature to her. Therefore, customarily—and out of respect—Ashe delivered her usual ending speech of the daily morning council with a firm voice of authority.

"And thus I would like to adjourn our audience. I bid you all good day." She made a motion to stand up but stopped short when she heard someone clearing their throat loudly on her right.

"Your majesty, before we conclude this assembly, I would like to present you with an important proposal before the council," said the elderly minister on her right, halting her actions. "This matter is need of dire attention," he added gravely, stroking his long white beard as if to emphasize his point.

Against her better judgment and ignoring the dangerous sirens blaring through her head, she nodded.

"You may proceed," said Ashe, wondering what sort of matter demanded such urgency—and if it was so, then why didn't he address it earlier—as she sunk back into her chair, noting the relieved expression flooding through the minister's face.

Was that an enthusiastic twinkle in his eyes?

The minister heaved out a suppressed sigh and brought out a bounded leather satchel from under the table. Slowly, he unbounded it and drew out a stack of papers which he distributed among the other ministers. Picking up the stray document before her, Ashe proceeded to browse through the contents of the document when the elderly minister announced his purpose.

"This matter concerns the lack of an heir to the Dalmasca throne," said the elderly minister.

Ashe's hand fell back unceremoniously to the table, her bracelets made contact with the table and it created a thud louder than she expected. She was certain her ministers heard it, but if they did, they chose to deliberately ignore it. Yes, trust her advisors to work behind her back regarding this matter. No wonder he delayed the proposal until the end of the conference, probably to catch her unguarded and unprepared.

"I understand my obligation to produce an heir but I do not see the urgency of it. There are much more pressing matters which requires my immediate attention," she answered steadfastly, hoping to end the discussion of marriage.

"On the contrary, this matter should not be treated lightly," the elderly minister pressed on solemnly. "Your majesty is the only surviving member of the Dalmasca royal family. Lord forbids if anything terrible were to befall you, Dalmasca would lose its only monarch and she would fall to disarray. In my opinion, we have delayed this matter far too long."

Although the comment wasn't supposed to sting, Ashe couldn't help but feel a little hurt about it. She lost her beloved father to the war, and her eight brothers even before that which left her as the only surviving member of the B'nargin family. Ashe couldn't deny that the minister's words did ring true. Sighing inwardly, she let the old minister resume his speech.

"As I was saying, monarchs can't rule their country without a proper consort by their side. It has been five years since Dalmasca regained its independence from the hands of Archadia, and the kingdom has been restored to its former glory. I find this hour to be the most appropriate time for us to address this subject. Of course, before we even conceive to breach the subject of producing an heir, we should first conjure up a proper husband for our queen. Mind you all, the king-consort that we choose requires certain qualities. The possible candidates should have some form of political standing in his country and would be willing to aid our queen without vying for the Dalmasca throne," he paused, his old eyes scanning around the table for response from other ministers.

"Who are our possible prospects?" enquired browned-haired minister, a little too eager in Ashe's opinion.

"Well, currently, we have various members of the Margrace family of Rozarria but namely Lord Al-Cid Margrace who have been a supportive hand and helpful aid these years. If our queen were to marry a member of the ruling family of Rozarria, it will cement the friendship between Dalmasca and Rozarria. No doubt, Dalmasca would ultimately benefit from this union," said the elderly minister.

"A proper candidate, I must say. He has the charisma and wits to be king-consort and if his enthusiasm to aid our queen these past few years is any indication, I'd say he's quite smitten with our queen," said a bald minister teasingly. Ashe felt heat rise to her alabaster cheek, staining it pink.

"But he is renowned for his reputation of being a philanderer," countered a blue Bangaa minister. "Would a man with such reputation be willing to forfeit his… habits?"

"I am sure he will change after he marries our queen," replied the bald minister, as he grinned suggestively.

"What about Emperor Larsa of Archadia?" another minister suggested. _What?_

"Nay, he is the emperor of the Archadia Empire. Personally, I do not think that the people will respond well to having an Archadian as our king-consort," protested a dark-haired female minister.

"Aye, but we must also remember about their retribution. Thanks to their help, Dalmasca has been able to prosper tremendously the past few years. Archadia has been graciously imparting us with their technological expertise as a sign of goodwill and we can't deny that it has been most cordial of them to do so. People would be glad to put the past behind us and no doubt having an Archadian emperor at our queen side would further deepen the rapport between our two countries," explained the elderly minister patiently.

"But he is much too young," said the Viera minister beside him, counting her long fingers. "If I am not mistaken, he's seven years junior to our queen."

"The current Head of Draklor Laboratory?" Ashe shuddered involuntarily. Even if the head of Draklor Laboratory has been long replaced, she couldn't help conjuring up the image of Dr. Cid, a man whose crazy obsession with nethicite had caused her much grief during her attempt to restore Dalmasca.

"I've heard that he's a benevolent man who has turned the research of Draklor Laboratory away from weapons and now focuses on the cultivating the manufactured nethicite into possible power source for other purposes," answered a fair-headed minister.

"Such a person would definitely benefit Dalmasca," said the brown Bangaa minister, nodding in agreement.

"What about the Consul of Landis?" a young minister enquired suddenly. The elderly minister face darkened instantly at the mention of the name.

"Nay, I know that man. Damon Schlangekopf," the elderly minister disagreed, as he pronounced each syllable of the name spitefully. "He sold his own country to Archadia twenty-years ago, in exchange for the position to rule the lands," he added with venomous contempt. "I would not have such a man ruling Dalmasca beside our queen. If you haven't noticed, he's not in our list."

The bickering between the ministers drone on with the pendulum of questions and answers traveling back and forth across the table, accompanied by names of familiar and not-so-familiar names. If Ashe didn't know better, she would have believed that she had just invited a host of matchmakers to join her in this merry–on the minister's part–morning audience. Ashe was contemplating on how to break up the discussion when a younger minister beat her to it by proposing a weird notion. Well, weird within the context of understanding of her most trusted ministers.

"How about the Judge Magisters of Archadia?" Ashe felt a hitch in her breath but brushed it off as the balmy Dalmascan heat affecting her. Her ministers' features were far more interesting as they vary from pure horrification to muted shock.

"Of course not! Are you out of your mind?" exclaimed the brown-haired minister sharply. "Do you recall how much grief they have caused us during their invasion?"

"But, back then they were only working under the orders of the emperor. Besides, we should put the past behind our back," he defended swiftly.

"Once a murderer, always a murderer. They are unfeeling loyal hounds of the empire," snapped the brown-haired minister. Flinching at the remark, Ashe felt an irrational surge of anger flowing through her veins.

"They are cold-blooded murderers who almost destroyed Dalmasca!" the bald minister virtually roared.

"Enough!" Ashe commanded with a tone of finality which indicated the end of the discussion. Her sudden outburst silenced her ministers instantly; none dared to say a word, or even attempted to breathe.

Aware of the shocked faces of the ministers, she quickly composed herself and reasoned further. "Might I remind you all once again that no matter which country we chose to ally ourselves with, it might spark resentment from other countries. We may currently be on pleasant terms with Archadia and Rozarria but we are treading dangerously on a thin line which may sever at the slightest touch. And until we can find a remedy for this, I suggest we put this whole matter on hold."

The situation was not as severe as it sounded; it was just terrible because Ashe made it sound worse than it actually was. In the past few years, she had done every thing possible to decline, avoid, and evade all forms of marriage proposals contrived by her faithful ministers. She would personally curb every possibility and mention of the subject before it even had the opportunity to rise.

"Your majesty," one of the ministers enquired carefully, drawing her out of her reverie.

"Maybe we could continue our discussion another day," she continued as she wearily massaged her temples, her long slender fingers came in contact with the cold steel of the Dalmascan circlet on her forehead, instantly reminding her of her duty as a queen. She understood very well that she would have to acknowledge this issue eventually, but for now, she would prefer delay it for as long as possible.

She looked up to meet the face of the concerned ministers. As if sensing her distress, the ministers nodded to themselves and one by one, the ministers stood up, offered their respects to their queen and left the council hall quietly.

"As you wish, your majesty. Untill then, I shall keep these proposals safe from harm," answered the elderly minister as he retrieved the proposal papers and proceeded to stack it up neatly. Ashe exhaled a sigh which she has been unwittingly holding. "Or would your majesty like to review them in private?" he urged hopefully, edging the stack of papers to Ashe.

Ashe's eyes twitched in response. _You just don't give up. Do you?_ Biting back the tart retort, Ashe settled with eyeing him sternly as she grabbed the confounding papers from his grasp. "Very well."

The elderly minister gratefully presented her with low bow and retreated from the hall.

Standing alone in the silent hall, Ashe stared resignedly at the cumbersome stack of papers in her hand which would soon determine her future. It felt heavy in her hand but whether it was due to weight of her paper or weight of her heart, she had no idea. Sighing to herself, she left the hall.

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_Has it been that long since the war, time sure passes quickly when you are busy?_

The mention of marriage proposals had accidentally prompted unbidden memories to reemerge into surface of her mind. Ashe longed to throw her hands up exasperatedly but that would be very un-queenly and her behaviour might scare her vassals senseless. Ashe believed that she could have handled a hundred of Archadian soldiers, a feast of vicious fiends, a heretic Occuria, a war-crazy tyrant but she was frustrated that she could be perturbed by the mere idea of a marriage proposal.

Mirroring her marriage to Rasler years ago, a wise decision orchestrated by her father and his council to bridge both countries relationship through the marriage of their successors, her second marriage would be cultivated on the same basis which was to further strengthen the country.

As a Dalmascan princess then, she had willingly given her consent and adhered to her father's wishes, denying her own heart and placing duty above all. As a queen, she was burdened with even more obligations and responsibilities. She had realized years ago, as a Dalmascan princess, now queen, she would not have the privilege of marrying the one she loved; and that hurt very much.

Her dallying to disregard this subject was not without merit. During her first few years of reign, the well-being of Dalmasca has dominated all her time. Her country was like an ailing child when she came into power and it demanded her complete attention. Now, it had grown to be robust and sturdy once again. But some things would never return to the way it was, the empty hallways devoid of the laughter of her family.

Unaware of where she was heading, she found herself once again at the high terrace facing the northern hemisphere of Dalmasca, and the fallen Bahamut. Outside the palace constraints, she felt the cool Dalmascan summer wind graze her form and she shivered faintly.

If anyone had been there to see her, the view she presented from the high terrace was one of legendary beauty. The five years had been kind to her. She had outgrown her childish features, to be replaced by a regal presence and womanly demeanor. Ashe had always been beautiful—a stunning desert bloom as Al-Cid Margrace had graciously put it. Her ashy blonde streaks framed her delicate heart-shaped face which was adorned by her soft luminous crystal gray eyes. Her tall, graceful frame gowned with a white dress—made for comfort and convenience—accentuated her slender and willowy figure.

However, there was one error etched across her feature though, there seemed to be an ever-present loneliness and world-weary cloud hovering over her eyes, but instead of diminishing her beauty it only served to accentuate her loveliness. Even when she was forced to live in the most abject conditions during her hiding in the Rabanstre downtown, the harsh-lived two years had not managed to snatch away her beauty. 

Ashe had grown accustomed to the habit of revisiting the terrace which gave her a full view of the collapsed air fortress. Some had recognized the artifact as a symbol of Dalmasca's freedom, while others viewed it the tyranny of the Archadia reign. To Ashe, it was something much far more personal.

Steering her eyes away from the dark relic, she lowered her head and gazed down from the terrace, incidentally she moved forward to get a better view of the soldier's barracks and its tiltyard. Her eyes came into contact with a peculiar scene, and she couldn't resist a smile.

Directly below the terrace laid the tiltyard where the Dalmascan soldiers practiced their skills diligently. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, apart from the fact that Captain Djojo, a lone moogle was barking orders loudly to the large amount of soldiers who were easily triple his height and width.

Captain Djojo marched between rows of soldiers while surveying their practice, his black pom-pom bobbing up and down behind him with every step taken. Clad in simple but custom-designed worn armour with holes to his fit coal black bat wings, he marched steadily across the tiltyard with his arms crossed in front of him, resembling his former master.

Many had judged Captain Djojo harshly by his miniature appearance and belittled his warring skills but they were all sorely mistaken after the captain had put them in their place—more often than not by the tip of a pointed sword. The moogle captain had been able to ascend to his current position not only because of his exceptional combat skills, but also due to his quick mind and even quicker feet which had gained him the reputation of 'winged-feet' among his fellow captains. Of course, Captain Djojo's sincere and genial manners had earned him respect from both subordinates and comrades.

Unbeknownst to the younger soldiers, Captain Djojo had been personally tutored and trained by one of the most powerful and loyal Dalmasca knight that had ever graced the palace walls.

Born from a family of moogle minstrels with four other siblings, Djojo had been destined to journey down the path of a minstrel as well. But the young, and rather eccentric moogle had never favoured the idea of becoming a royal minstrel, instead he aspired to join the knight ranks and serve his country—a crazy notion, for there had never been a single moogle in the Dalmasca long history of knights. Back then, that did not deter the young ambitious moogle from fulfilling his dream. Struck by some quirky stroke of irony fate, Djojo had been hand-picked by the knight he idolizes who generously offered him a chance to serve as his squire.

Lifting her hand to her chin and leaning forward to the uneven parapets, she found the tiny captain demonstrating his skills to a juvenile Seeq soldier. He wielded his blade deftly, convoyed with agility and balance while explaining the proper manner of handling a sword. The young Seeq beside him nodded ardently, absorbing the instruction with undivided attention. Next, Djojo thrust his sword forward and flicked his wrist before planting another slice into the thin air, a stance which Ashe was only too familiar. Turning towards the Seeq, he gestured for the Seeq to mimic his steps as he flapped his bat wings to float upwards and patted the Seeq's back warmly as if to encourage him.

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"Your majesty," Ashe heard a voice call from behind her. Instantly, she twirled around to find a Viera attendant standing at the entrance of the terrace. Ashe felt slightly unnerved that she did not manage to sense the presence of her lady-in-waiting. Then again, the Viera had always been associated with grace and stealth and it was no great shame that she didn't notice her approach. With that said, Ashe still felt uncomfortable. _I must be losing my touch to the blissful years of peace. _She noticed the Viera was holding out a piece of rolled parchment, tied fir,ly with a ribbon.

"A letter from Bhujerba," her Viera attendant informed when she noticed her puzzled expression.

_Uncle Halim?_ The seal stamped on the parchment confirmed her thoughts. Ashe reached out to retrieve the letter from the Viera's long hands and then subsequently dismissed her attendant. Without another word, the Viera bowed and left the queen alone, exiting the terrace as silently as she appeared.

Ashe moved away from the parapet, and on to the nearest chair under the shade of the palm trees. A gust of light wind breeze through, as though urging her to unravel the contents of the letter. She loosened the ribbon and unrolled the scroll of yellowish parchment, and slowly read through the contents of the letter.

A letter of goodwill from her uncle—enquiring about her health, current state of affairs and a subtle suggestion of her forthcoming visit to Bhujerba.

Ashe leaned back into her chair as she felt a light breeze caressing her cheek; she tilted her head to the side to find that Captain Djojo had resumed patrolling the vast tiltyard. _Bhujerba, Ashe, Djojo and…. _Ashe's features rearranged to a woeful smile as she pieced the names together and it formed into a fond memory which she had kept safely locked up in her heart.

_To be continued…_


	2. Invitation

**Disclaimer:** Do I look like I own Final Fantasy XII? Yes, I own a copy of the game (and some merchandise) and that's about it.

**A/N:** Thank you for all your kind reviews, they were wonderful and encouraging. I hope this chapter won't prove to be a disappointment for those who are interested in the main plot as this story will constantly alternate between the main plot and flashbacks of the development of Ashe's relationship with Basch. For the next few chapters, I will be delving into her childhood experience and her growing attachment for him. So, please read and review, and on with the story.

Credits to two other fanfic authoresses who would rather remain anonymous for beta-ing my story.

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**Courtly Love**

Invitation

From her earliest memories, Basch Fon Ronsenberg had always been a shadowy presence; it seemed to her that he was constantly there. From what she understood, he had been serving the knights' order ever since she was born. But if there was one aspect that Ashe remembered distinctively about him; it would be that whenever he sighted her, he would never fail to acknowledge her with a tender smile and an affirmative nod. And in return, she'd stick her tongue out at him.

Now, Ashe had been extremely jealous of the attention her brothers and the immense community lavish upon the dashing young knight. Like bees drawn to honey, most people tended to swarm around him willingly; the extensive list included the royal princes of Dalmasca, lady attendants – even the proud Vieras – who eyed him in the shadows, and moogles circled around him. Even her father, King Raminas was particularly fond of this fair-headed Landisern. Maybe it was his kind demeanor and endless patience which had attracted the people around him – garnering both wanted and unwanted attention. As a knight, he was firm with his subordinates but compassionate as well, seeking to bond with them unlike most high-ranking officials. Though the young knight basked in the glory of attention, he did not become vain, far from it, he was truly a humble soul. True, his combat skills and victorious battles won him endless fame but it was his kind nature and righteous deeds which drew people to him.

Being the youngest and only princess of Dalmasca – a rosebud princess amongst the protective thorns of brothers – she strictly believed that the attention should be directed to her and not some young newly promoted knight captain. Not that Ashe received harsh treatment from her family, but they tended to shift their attention to the young knight whenever he showed up.

And such was a situation which befell her now.

"Ashari… Can we go to Nabradia for Rasler's birthday?" Young Ashe, Dalmasca's fair and petite princess, enquired hopefully. "He sent me an invitation to his ninth birthday."

On the round table adjoining the airship's porthole, two fine-looking gentlemen were currently engaged in a battle of wits, strategy and tactics over a black and white game board. One had ashy blonde hair which framed his alabaster cheeks; lean-built and dressed adequately in royal robes, he was commanding an army of white chess pieces. While his opponent had a slightly darker shade of skin, his head was crowned with a mass of golden streaks which are messily slicked back from his tanned face; garbed in Dalmascan captain uniform, he led a combatant of black chess pieces.

Presently, the white forces were being mercilessly bulldozed by the black cavalcades.

Noticing her presence, the captain shifted his gaze away from the board to present Ashe a slight nod of greeting and a warm smile while the crown prince continued scrutinizing the chessboard and inadvertently emitted a low grunt. Ashe inclined her head with polite affirmation, but otherwise ignored the knight captain. She kept focused on her intent, her utmost priority was to cajole her brother into accompanying her to Nabradia – whether he liked it or not.

"Father told me to ask you. He said that if you didn't mind, we could proceed to Nabradia after our visit to Uncle Halim," persuaded Ashe meticulously.

"Nay," answered the crown prince of Dalmasca tersely, sounding more of a grunt, without lifting his eyes from the black and white board. He moved his white knight forward only for it to be captured subsequently by his opponent's black pawn; his face darkened substantially.

Her hopes deflated at the response but she was not discouraged, convening a sweet smile, she prodded her brother with a saccharine voice. "Ashari, please. I really want to attend Rasler's birthday. I've even brought along his birthday gift."

"Pleading won't lead you anywhere," stated Ashari apathetically. "The answer is no. Besides, I have already declined the invitation. As for your present, we'll just have to send a messenger to deliver it."

"Why can't we go?" demanded the willful princess.

He finally lifted his head to look at his sister, and regarded her grimly, "Because I detest royal festivities where we have to puff our chest, smile genially, act all pompous and don on a fake façade. Tis vexing." The statement signified the end of the discussion or as his opponent described it, a one-sided decision.

"I want to go," Ashe hissed stubbornly, curling her lip in anger. Her demeanor showed that she was not backing out of the argument without a fight.

"We are not going," replied Ashari, with an equally adamant tone. "Now run along and play with your dolls, and do not interrupt me. I am in a winning streak at the moment so don't bother me with trifles."

His opponent raised a skeptical eyebrow at his declaration, from his side of table; he can assure anyone that was willing to lend an ear that the crown prince, Ashari B'nargin Dalmasca was most definitely losing, and rather pathetically. Setting his elbow on the table, he watched the exchange between the two identical siblings with interest.

"But…," she started.

"Ashe, do not make me repeat myself again. We are not going to Nabradia and that is final. Now, leave us," he cut her off curtly, and turned back to the chessboard.

"I hate you!" She turned to see Basch staring at her, languidly, with an amused expression on his face which was unfortunately the wrong thing to do as it fueled her anger even further. "And you too!" Ashe shouted even louder, with a hint of accusation as if blaming him for her misfortune, while sticking her tongue at the guiltless bystander.

With fierce determination, she marched up to the table and knocked the despicable chess board askew, scattering the chess pieces over the two players and the floor. Huffing a satisfactory grunt, she spun around quickly and raced out of the room. She forcefully pried the door open which hurtled right into the innocent moogle squire who was sent flying away along with the tray of beverages.

"Ashelia B'nargin Dalmasca, you come back here this instance," Ashari erupted, his chair thrown back as he leapt to his feet. But instead of giving chase, he stood rooted to the ground as he stared back and forth between the door that Ashe had vanished through and the fallen chess pieces. After a while, he slumped back into his chair dejectedly and buried his face into his hands.

"Good heavens. I was going to win." Ashari mumbled through his hands, whining like an irate puppy whose bone has been snatched away. Basch arched an eyebrow in wonder; it never ceased to amaze him on how Ashari could still proclaim himself a chess master after suffering countless – he lost count after he used up all his fingers and toes – defeat in his hands.

"Lord Ashari…" drawled Basch tiredly, he stooped down to collect the scattered chess pieces on the floor.

Moments ago, he had wanted to question Ashari about his resolute reluctance to visit Nabradia but then thought better of it. Firstly, it was not within Basch's nature to challenge the decision of his lord friend especially when the crown prince seemed so rapt with his decision that he would rather suffer the fury of his beloved sister. Secondly, Basch had known the prince long enough to be able to read between the lines, and he clearly understood the reason why Ashari avoided the trip to their neighboring country at all costs. Of course, his reluctance stemmed chiefly from laziness to deal with his royal duties, but it was also because he knew that the King of Nabradia was seriously considering betrothing the two young patricians. And this notion was what Ashari found most disagreeable.

"Address me as Ash when we are in private," corrected the prince petulantly. "Lord Ashari makes me feel like I have aged tenfold." Then again, maybe the crown prince was a childish slouch.

Princess Ashe on the other hand was another matter. A precocious young maiden of the Dalmascan royal courts; young, high-spirited and quick-tempered; who had an obsession with duties and protocols. Not exactly the ideal princess; however Basch couldn't help but find the young princess to be endearing, though the young regnant didn't seem to share his sentiments. In fact, she viewed him as despicable as a speck of dust in her eyes. He tried to recall an instance where he offended the Lady Ashe in some way but nothing came to mind.

"Lord Ash. I reckon you should thank Lady Ashe. She had just saved you from further embarrassment," remarked Basch, scarcely able to hide a grin, as he separated the chess pieces and swept them into their respective pouches.

"Do not mock me, Basch," Ashari reproached with a jesting tone, he picked up his sword and brandished it dangerously at the captain. "If it were someone else, I would have flogged him with my blade for that insolent remark. Speaking of blades, I need you to frequent the blacksmith to whet my blade for the hunt tomorrow with the Marquis."

He threw the blade – a Lohengrin – at the captain who caught it dexterously. Basch unsheathed the sword and examined it closely; it did seem rather battle-worn to his trained eyes but nothing a proper honing for a night wouldn't fix.

"I will see to it immediately," Basch answered, sheathing the sword back into the ornamented scabbard. "And if there is nothing else, I shall return to my post."

The crown prince flicked his wrist absently and Basch took it as his cue to depart. He withdrew swiftly in hopes that the prince would not force him into another mindless and facile round of chess.

"Djojo, are you alright?" asked Basch when he found his moogle squire sitting behind the door, lamenting over the loss of the cups. The poor moogle was silently rubbing his aching nose as he stared forlornly at the broken pieces of tableware and at the puddle of wet substance strewn over the floor.

"I think so but I wouldn't say the same for the cups, kupo," replied Djojo miserably, pointing at the mess.

"You will soon learn to understand the difficulties of serving royalties," he said emphatically as he patted the tiny squire on the head. "Tidy up the mess, we'll be arriving in Bhujerba soon."

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"_Svagatam_, Lord Ashari and Lady Ashelia," greeted Marquis Ondore upon the arrival of the royal cortege. His voice was a deep unique diction, sustained only by Bhujerbans. "Welcome to Bhujerba"

"Thank you and _Svagatam_ to you too, Marquis Ondore," returned the crown prince sententiously, as he performed a solemn bow while his sister descended to a light curtsey beside him. He then disposed of his ceremonious pretense and grinned at the marquis, "Now that we are done with the formalities, and my father would have nothing to complain about. Let us dispense with ceremony and try to act normal, Uncle Halim."

"You are right. But your father won't be pleased," replied the marquis blithely as he moved forward to clasp the shoulder of his guest and steered him towards the manor.

"Alas, my father is not here," answered Ashari with a pretentious sigh.

The marquis and the crown prince then chatted away, exchanging news about the current happenings in Dalmasca and Bhujerba

Climbing the slopes to the marquis manor was tricky business; the distance between the front gates to the manor wasn't far but proves to be tedious especially when one was gowned in a heavy formal dress and before long Ashe was dragging her feet and her breathing grew laborious. Stuck in a cold war with her brother, she couldn't possibly ask for his help and she would rather have her precious chocobo doll sold before she would even consider asking the captain behind her for assistance, her pride wouldn't allow it. She could hear his steady footsteps behind her, she stole a furtive glimpse to find him staring at her, with a hint of concern in his eyes, and she quickened her pace. Therefore, she had only one option left and at the first possible moment presented; she went to her uncle and tugged at the hem of his overcoat to gain his attention.

"Uncle Halim, carry me," implored the little princess, her arms outstretched.

"Why not ask Ashari to carry you?" teased the marquis but elated at her request, he picked her up easily and set her on the crook of his arm.

"Because I don't like him," stated Ashe, displaying her obvious displeasure to her uncle. The marquis raised a cynical eyebrow at her complaint, she continued, "He didn't allow me to attend Rasler's birthday."

"Who?"

"Prince Rasler, the second prince of Nabradia." Ashe proceeded to tattle on her brother to her favorite uncle.

Listening patiently to Ashe's elaborate rant, the Marquis of Bhujerba kept silent until she finally finished her tirade, he then put her down gently and sighed, "Ashelia, you should listen to your brother, I am sure he knows best."

"He's just lazy," declared Ashe mulishly. "Uncle Halim, would you help me convince my brother to let me go to Nabradia?"

A grimace slowly formed on the marquis's face, it wasn't severe but sufficient to illustrate his distress at the demand. After a moment of silent contemplation, he answered firmly, "I would not interfere with Ashari's decision."

The marquis had been in acquaintance with a number of B'nargin pedigrees to be familiar with the stubborn trait which they possessed. It was only advisable to avoid being caught up between the sibling squabble, therefore he tried to maneuver away from the disengaging topic by pacifying her with the colourful events of tomorrow's hunt, hoping to cheer up the willful princess.

However, his attempt at peace-making proved to be futile, as Ashe remained aloof.

So, even the marquis wouldn't assist her. Thus, Ashe has resorted to sulking the entire length during dinner and hardly touched her food. Her taciturn behaviour gained her no further credit, as her brother blatantly ignored her throughout dinner, while enjoying himself with the company of his captain and the marquis. To her dismay, her brother sent her off to retire early for the night as he claimed that wayward little girls should not stay up late. Though, it was more likely that he intended to start a _madhu_-driven merrymaking revelry which probably included drinking himself into oblivion.

Within the constraints of her room, Ashe silently brooded over the events of the day. There was no way she was going to let her brother ruin her fun. _I'll go alone if I must_. Even when night finally cast over Bhujerba, Ashe was still awake trying to figure out a way to attend her friend's birthday and before the moon reached the pinnacle of its night journey, Ashe stumbled upon a solution to her problems. Surreptitiously, she crept out of her room to gather the ingredients for her plan and spent the remaining night revising her plan again.

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On the morning of the hunt, the Marquis palatial manor was bustling with effereevence activities. Stable bangaas were saddling chocobos, Rebe falconers tending their prey birds, Seeq chefs racing back and forth from the kitchens, armored _Sainikah_ making their daily rounds, and other staffs tending to their specific duties. Needless to say, the entire household was swept up in a whirlwind of noisy activities, but despite the potpourri of hurly-burly; everyone was in high-spirits.

With an exception of one princess. Few floors above the vivacious activities, within the guest chambers; Ashe laid uncomfortably in bed, her brother nursing – more like fussing – all over her. That morning, when the chamberlain went to arouse Ashe from her sleep, she had complained of having upset stomach. Her lack of sleep last night lent her a fatigue appearance which fortified her claim of being ill but truthfully she was perfectly fine, and all the cooing and cuddling her brother was bestowing was starting to grate on her nerves. Her uncle had dropped by to check on her condition, but left to oversee the preparation for the hunt.

"Are you feeling any better?" Ashari stroked her hair gently; his grey orbs shone with concern over the state of his little sister.

"A little. My tummy still hurts," Ashe lied unhesitatingly; she had been rehearsing for this moment.

"Hmm… you do seem better," He placed his palm over her forehead to check her body temperature, and Ashe briefly wondered if her brother was experiencing early senility. She claimed to have a stomachache, not a fever. "Tis were wise decision where I forbid you to visit Nabradia. You won't be able to attend Rasler's birthday in this state. Neither would you be able to join us with the hunt. I will have Djojo remain here to keep you company."

"Nay, tis won't be necessary. I have the nurse to tend to me, I will be fine," she frowned. The inclusion of the squire was not part of her agenda, it was troublesome to deal with her nurse, and the squire would only prove to be an additional hindrance to her scheme.

"Nonsense. You will be bored to tears with the old nurse," earning an affronted grunt from the ancient nurse. "Do not question my decision, Ashe. It's settled then, Djojo, you will remain here and keep her company until we return, I trust you will guard her well."

"Aye, my lord," Djojo conceded with reluctance, appearing as though he had just swallowed rotten flan.

"Rest well and await our glorious triumphant return," he planted a kiss on her temple and tucked her back into bed. Satisfied with her condition, he then exited the room, leaving Ashe at the mercy of the old nurse and Djojo.

Ashe waited for the manor to quiet down before enacting her plan. She did not have to wait long, by noon; the manor had been reduced to an eerie silence. Glancing at her two companions, she pondered on various ways to remove the barriers to her freedom. Her opportunity arrived when the young moogle decided to pay the little moogle room a visit, taking the cue, she proceeded with her escapade. Furtively, she took out a sleep mote from under her pillow and flung it to the nurse's feet, and instantly the nurse fell into deep slumber on her chair.

One down and another to go. Ashe hopped off the bed and cast off her nightdress; she quickly dressed herself in a plain pink summer dress, and tied her hair with a pink ribbon. With that done, she then bent down to pull out a bag from under her bed which contained her provisions for the journey. She took out a letter from it and was about to place it on the night stand when she heard Djojo – her temporary guardian entering the room. Ashe twirled around to face the squire, noting that he was already staring at the cataleptic nurse in mortification.

"Your highness. What have you done to your nurse, kupo?" exclaimed the moogle when words returned to him.

"I've put her under a sleeping spell. She won't be awake until the sun touches the ground," explained the delinquent guiltlessly, sounding as though she was commenting on the condition of the weather. Extracting another sleep mote stealthily from her pocket but shielding it from view, she was prepared to throw it at the gullible moogle and send him straight to dreamland when she paused and thought better of it, "Djojo, you will escort me to Nabradia."

It was an order, not a request.

Djojo whirled his furry head around so quickly that his black pompom smacked his head hard; he didn't seem to notice as he was staring disbelievingly at the princess. Scratching his long ears, he ventured carefully, "Pardon me, your highness, kupo. But I do not think I've heard you correctly, kupo."

"I said, you will escort me on my excursion to Nabradia," repeated Ashe. "You have two choices; either you come along to Nabradia with me. Or I will knock you unconscious and you will have to answer to my brother later without me," said Ashe, mustering a threatening tone and eyeing him warily, preparing to hurl the sleep mote at him if he dared to decline her request.

Djojo felt as though he had been asked to kiss a Wild Saurian or jump into the Yensa Sandsea, one choice was as distasteful as the other. He fidgeted uneasily, juggling the possibilities of both options; if he were to leave her to venture on this journey alone, the defenseless princess might come to harm. On the other hand, if he followed her on this quest, his master would be severely displeased once he found them both gone. Aghast, he realized that the princess had offered him no form of retreat. Between the two options, the latter seemed more pleasing to him. He did not like the thought of letting the princess go to a foreign country all by herself. The task of protecting the princess was entrusted to him, and he intended to carry out his mission as best as he could, his moogle honour at stake. He had learnt that much about personal responsibilities, after numerous observations of his master's ways.

"And I'll offer you a bag of kupo nuts." Ashe added as an afterthought.

And that sealed Djojo's fate. Like all moogles in Ivalice, Djojo had a strange affinity for kupo nuts which couldn't be curtailed. A little harmless foible that all minuscule creatures with white fur, bat wings and porcupine-nish pom-pom shared universally. Simply put, any normal moogle would be utterly vulnerable to the magnetism which kupo nuts emanated and would fall under its deadly temptation.

"My lady, allow me to escort you to Nabradia, kupo," Djojo agreed lamely, a decision he knew he would regret. "Lady Ashe, even if most of the staff has left for the hunt. The estate is filled with _Sainikah_, how on Ivalice are we suppose to escape without being notice, kupo."

"They will notice us, but they won't be able to stop us," answered Ashe confidently. Djojo jaw mouthed into a 'how' and she responded by proudly revealing the sleep mote that she was formerly hiding.

"Where did you obtain it, kupo?" exclaimed Djojo. Sleep motes are rare to come by and even if someone was lucky enough to find one, it was extremely costly.

"From my brother's personal stash, he has lots of treasures in his loot," admitted Ashe, feeling no remorse for raiding her brother's possessions the night before.

"He's not going to be pleased when he finds out, kupo," said Djojo worriedly, he believed that the prince would not only be furious about the loss of the sleep motes but also the absence of his sister upon his return.

"I couldn't care less. Besides, I won't be there to suffer his wrath when he finds out. I'll be in Nabradia celebrating Rasler's birthday," she chirruped excitingly.

"What about our journey home, kupo?" asked the confused moogle with a befuddled expression.

"I've left a letter informing him that we left for Nabradia," she answered, pointing at the letter that rested peacefully on the night stand. "He'll come and fetch us there."

"Will Lord Ashari come for us, kupo?" inquired Djojo doubtfully.

"Certainly, my brother can't return to Dalmasca without me," confirmed Ashe assertively. She yanked the cords of her crocheted satchel, securing the contents safely – Rasler's present, a banquet dress, a coin pouch and three sleep motes.

"Your highness. Can I leave a letter too, kupo?"

"What for?" Ashe asked curiously as she swung the bag over her shoulder and shrouded herself with a cloak.

"My Will, kupo."

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Sneaking out of the estate was proven easier than she had thought; the normally crowded estate was emptied – most of the staff have left for the hunt with the marquis's private airship and wouldn't be back until late evening – save but a few random _Sainikah_ patrolling the gardens which they effortlessly evaded. Fortunately for them, the aerodrome wasn't located too far from the marquis's estate, and they managed to cover the distance shortly without any obstruction – much to Ashe's delight and Djojo's disappointment.

All went according to plan until they arrived at the ticket counter in the aerodrome.

"How may I be of assistance, little_ baalaa _(girl)?" asked the young ticket lady with a distinctive Bhujerban accent kindly.

"I would to like to purchase two tickets to Nabradia," said Ashe, trying to meet the face of the lady. Both the princess and squire were dangling precariously on the edge of the counter.

"I am sorry, little _baalaa_ but I can't sell you the _yaatraapatra_ (tickets)," said the ticket lady, sounding apologetic. "Where is your _raksaka_ (guardian)?"

Ashe wavered for brief moment, but quickly turned the tables by explaining, "He's in the latrine so he asked us to buy the tickets first." Donning an innocent and troubled expression, she continued, "He says that I am a big girl now and I can buy tickets on my own."

Torn between observing the company's protocols and succumbing to the little girl's adorable charms, the ticket lady answered hesitatingly, "Well, I suppose I could. Alright, how many tickets would you need?"

"Two... I mean three. One for me, one for him and one for my guardian," Ashe smiled winsomely at the lady, praying that she had not heard her mistake.

"Here you go, enjoy your flight," she passed the tickets to Ashe, who gladly took it.

"Erm… which is the way to board the skyferry?"

"Oh, just turn _daksina_ (right) at the next corner and turn _vaama_ (left) after that," explained the ticket lady. "You better hurry; the skyferry will be leaving in _daza_ (ten) minutes."

Ashe gave her thanks to ticket lady politely and bounced off happily from the counter. Dragging the reluctant moogle, she skipped away from the counter and camouflaged with the bustling crowd.

"See what I tell you," gloated Ashe, a victorious smile spreading over her face.

"It's not good to lie, kupo" muttered Djojo jadedly, referring to both tricking the crown prince and the naive ticket lady.

"She said _daksina_ then _vaama_, so that would be?" Ashe mused out aloud; her grey-eyes scanning the vicinity of aerodrome, seeking for directions.

"Kupo. She meant for us to turn left and then right, my lady," informed her companion confidently.

"I knew that. I know how to speak Bhujerbish," snapped Ashe, sounding offended at the correction.

She stomped off hastily towards the aforementioned directions with Djojo trailing after her. Locating the skyferry was fairly easy with proper directions but they were once again halted at the entrance of the airship by the doorman whom demanded for their tickets and questioned about their lack of guardian. Opting the same lie; they were permitted to enter without any further obstruction, and soon discovered their private cabin.

"We've made it; no one can stop us now," cheered Ashe optimistically, claiming the left bunk which is nearer to the aperture.

"I still do not think it is such a good idea, kupo," mumbled the unhappy moogle, while dumping their bags on the other available neatly made bed.

"Stop grumbling, Djojo, everything will be fine," said Ashe, self-assured of their successful escapade. "I'm going outside to the air deck. "

She stretched her limbs and hopped off the bed to celebrate her victory and embrace the wonders of freedom. Trotting to the door, she gleefully opened it to find herself enshrouded by a dark shadow and staring at a pair of black boots. Puzzled, she slowly gazed upwards from the feet to the meet the face of the intruder. Her eyes widen and her jaw dropped to an extent where it would put all Pumpkin Star to shame as her lips slowly mouthed.

"Sir Basch."

_To be continued…_


	3. Journey

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Final Fantasy XII or any of its characters. I do own my moogle though.

**A/N:** Once again, thank you to all those who reviewed. I promised myself to update at least once every two weeks but this chapter was sadly delayed. This chapter was longer than I expected though and I hope the length made up for my tardiness. Please read and review, as the reviews have really motivated me to continue in this assignment laden week.

Again, credits to two other fanfic authoresses who would still rather remain anonymous for beta-ing my story.

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**Courtly Love**

Journey

"Sir Basch."

Why was Basch here? By all laws, physics and logics known to the princess, she surmised that he shouldn't be here. By right, he should be miles away within the Bhujerba lush and green forest at the hunt, chasing wandering fiends, playing guard to her brother or maybe celebrating the success of capturing a Wild Saurian or two. He should not be here, it was just plain wrong. But this apparition of Basch standing before her looked real albeit faintly livid, an expression which Ashe never had the privilege to see, or he had just never shown as he had always managed to retain sobriety.

Ashe thought that maybe if she ignored it, it would disappear. Unfortunately, many things in the life of a princess did not work that way. Hence, Ashe did what most sane people would have done in her shoes.

She slammed the door in his face.

Backing away from the door, she rushed over to her bag and yanked the strings open with unbelievable force and rummaged frantically through the contents. She could dimly hear the door creaking open and heavy footsteps – reminding her of murderous gigantic Slaven - looming nearer to her, she quickened her search.

Finding what she wanted, she spun around to find Basch closing in on her like a crush-determined Demon Wall with one hand outstretched. She closed her eyes and flung the sleep mote at her assailant as hard as possible.

_Thud_. She heard something hit the floor with a dead faint.

Nervously, she opened her eyes to find Basch lying inert on the floor face down. Looking up, she found Djojo as immobilized as his master; the only difference being the moogle was still upright and his onyx eyes were wide-opened.

"Quick, help me pull him inside before somebody notices us," said Ashe, kicking the door shut.

"Oh my kupo, oh my kupo-po, Sir Basch is going to kill me when he wakes up, kupo," Djojo stuttered as he helped the princess haul in the unconscious knight while envisioning his impendent doom. He wondered if Basch would butcher him with mercy or would he perform a slow and torturous death and he sincerely prayed to all things holy in Ivalice that hopefully Basch wouldn't skin him and turn him into a handbag. Not that Basch needed one though.

"How did Basch find out? I thought he left with my brother for the hunt," she wondered as they hefted the knight arduously onto the remaining bed. Her well-thought out plan has been officially thwarted by the appearance of this knight captain and she turned to glare at the squire accusingly, "Djojo, did you inform him secretly?"

"Kupo. Nay, my lady, I swear. Come to think about it, kupo, I have not seen Sir Basch the entire day. He left early this morning, and instructed me to follow Lord Ash, kupo" clarified the edgy moogle, waving his hands frenetically in front of him.

"Then, why is he here?" asked Ashe, pointing at the oblivious knight. Djojo responded her question by shaking his furry head fervently. "We'll just have to wait until he wakes up."

This regrettably would not be happening until another few hours. Like an avenging angel, Ashe purposefully seized the blankets and started to wrap it around Basch, not in a tuck-in-bed manner but rather in a confine-the-prisoner method.

"Lady Ashe, what are you doing, kupo?" enquired the distressed moogle, his voice a pitch higher than usual, as he didn't like what he saw.

"Don't interrupt me, Djojo. Help me tie him up," she ordered tersely, her hands busy with the occupation of tying up the captain. "Tight!"

"Oh no, kupo," whimpered Djojo, as he hesitantly moved forth to assist her and peered ruefully at his sleeping master.

And while they were busy with the meticulous task of bundling the comatose captain, they hardly noticed the slight jolt of the ground, indicating the departure of the skyferry from Bhujerba.

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Basch awoke to a heavy pounding in his head and a low buzzing in his ears. His head felt muddled as though a suicidal bomb had seeped in and decided to conveniently detonate itself in his brain. He groaned and shook his head to disperse the dizziness, he tried to raise a hand to massage his forehead and help him shake off the vertigo when he realized he couldn't move his arm. His eyelids fluttered open to see a pair of silhouettes on the opposite bed. _Ashe and Djojo. _Sobering, he recalled the incidents before his fall, and his eyes snapped wide open and he struggled to stand.

His feeble attempt to stand failed as he lost his balance and fell back onto the bed, his head slamming against the wall. Double vision assaulted him and he saw four pairs of eyes staring at him curiously through his half-slit eyes. Looking down, he was appalled to find that he had been bounded tightly by a quilt and thick curtain cords which confined all forms of possible movement. Utterly subdued, he turned to glare at the patron of his current state.

A pair of grey orbs glared back at him with hostility while the black orbs diverted their gaze to everywhere but at him. From her curled lip and defiant eyes, he could read her mind and tell that she was prepared to strike bargain with him. One in which he had total disadvantage based on his current captive condition.

"My lady, would you be so kind as to release me?" said Basch, his voice stressing at the last two words.

"Not until you promise me that you would not prevent me from visiting Nabradia," said Ashe indignantly, her firm intonation made it clear that there will be no room for further discussion. "Give me your word, Basch, and I will release you."

"Prevent? Nabradia? Would you justify our destination?" questioned Basch, his face clouded with incomprehension mingled with shock.

"Nabradia, of course. Do you think that my brother would be able to stop me? I assure you, I have all these thought out already. You need not fear about our return passage, for I have left my brother a note regarding this matter." She spoke with the air of pride, as if inwardly congratulating herself for her ingenious plan.

No one in the kingdom would ever doubt the fact that Lord Ash and Lady Ashe are blood-related, after all, they both possessed identical physical features, share similar behaviour traits and bears the same family name, B'nargin Dalmasca. But Basch would very much like to add another attribute to the list, and that both of them are equally stubborn and obstinate as well, "Are you entirely sure that this skyferry flies to Nabradia?"

"Yes," she answered confidently. "I even asked the ticket lady for proper directions to the skyferry. _Vaama_ means right while _daksina_ means left, right?" she asked, turning to Djojo for confirmation which the moogle agreed with a fervent nod.

Like the fair sky after a rainstorm, Basch's confused expression scattered away to be replaced with a look of dawning comprehension. Sighing inwardly, he shook his head and corrected the princess, "Just the opposite, _daksina_ means right, _vaama_ means left. You weren't paying attention in lessons it seems." Despite the grave situation, he couldn't hide a smirk from emerging on his face when he saw her flabbergasted expression. He was right; they didn't know where they were headed to.

"Both of you took the wrong direction and boarded the skyferry to Rozarria."

The truth came crashing down on Ashe and she shrieked, her piercing voice reverberating the small room, "What!"

"Oh kupo," mumbled Djojo meekly as he ebbed away from the fuming princess. Turning around sharply, Ashe advanced towards shock-stricken moogle in an almost predatory manner. Sensing the danger approaching him and that his moogle life was in jeopardy, he raced to the exit as fast as his short legs could carry him.

"Get back here, Djojo! When I catch you, I am going to throw you off this ship," she threatened while chasing after the quick-feet moogle.

"Wait!"

Forgetting that he was caged by sheets and cords, once again, Basch shot up, only to end up falling back onto the bed; his head revisited the same spot from earlier. It hurt and he growled, and this time he was absolutely sure that a bump was going to grow. It was too late anyway, as they were already out of the room, and Basch was left glaring at the swinging cabin door, as though mocking his restricted state.

After disentangling himself – a tough combination of writhing and squirming – from the mass of blankets and curtain cords, he lifted his free hand to massage the sore spot on his head and subsequently caught sight of the condition of his arm; the cords had bitten into his skin and rendered it into a sickly purplish hue. Being a knight, he was accustomed to various forms of injuries but he didn't hold a record of being wounded by a wayward princess and moogle, he was bested by them and the thought was disturbing.

He went out of the room in search for the princess and his squire. It wasn't hard to locate them as they were creating a noisy racket on the deck of the ship. He made his way to the deck to find Ashe chasing after Djojo in circles around the deck of the skyferry and inviting a large host of onlookers at their display. Basch shook his head and left them to their antics as he went directly to the bridge to enquire if the ship can detour back to Bhujerba.

The answer he received was not what he wanted to hear.

Returning back to the deck, he found that the multitude of onlookers had expanded substantially to watch the catchy spectacle performed by the Dalmascan princess and knight-aspiring moogle. Currently, the moogle was clutching tightly onto the flagpole while the princess was shouting death threats beneath him – nothing too obscene but definitely not something King Raminas would be pleased to hear. Pushing himself through the crowd, he headed towards the princess and grabbed her firmly around the waist while his other hand beckoned for Djojo to slide off the flagpole.

"All right, that's enough," said the tensed knight, as he hauled the princess up to his waist and marched away from the scene, subsequently ignoring the suspicious glances thrown at him.

"Sir Basch, I demand you unhand me this instance," Ashe wailed, wriggling out of his grasp and kicking him painfully at the ribs. "This is not the way to treat a lady."

Back in the cabin, he placed both of them on separate beds – something that Basch recalled his mother would have done whenever he and Noah were caught up in a brawl. The princess glared at the both of them lethally, grabbed the pillows next to her and flung them at Basch and Djojo respectively. Basch caught the pillow swiftly while Djojo was struck down by the unexpected attack. Gathering his thoughts, he eyed the two partners in crime and decided to interrogate his squire first as he was mostly likely to spill the truth.

"Djojo, explain yourself," demanded Basch, as he eyed Djojo penetratingly, daring him to lie.

"I, uh, I, oh kupo. Lady Ashe threatened me. She said that if I do not carry out her bidding then she'll knock me unconscious like what she did to you. She was planning to leave for Nabradia and I couldn't let her highness run off alone, so I yielded, kupo," Djojo confessed miserably.

"I did not threaten him. I requested him to escort me and he obliged. I even offered him a bag of kupo nuts," she retaliated haughtily, folding her arms across her chest.

"You sold your soul for a bag of kupo nuts," he stared at Djojo incredulously, as his squire cowered sheepishly.

He knew his squire all too well, Djojo wouldn't have dared to assist the princess on this escapade unless he was coerced to, and that was mostly likely what had happened. Under different circumstances, he would have praised the princess' well-conceived plan but in his current predicament, he couldn't even bring himself to smile.

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That morning, Basch had left the estate to fetch the prince's Lohengrin from the local blacksmith. His return was delayed as there was huge crowd of customers and it took him longer than he had expected to retrieve the sword.

Upon his late return to the estate, he found two tiny conspicuous figures creeping out of the front gate. He identified one being his squire immediately but couldn't quite distinguish the other, as the person was shrouded with a cloak. Out of curiosity, he followed them until they reached the aerodrome, and he was perplexed even further, what business did his squire had in this place. He lost sight of them due to the bustling crowd, only to find them later heading straight for the Rozarrian skyferry.

Keeping them at close watch, he pursued them until the entrance of the skyferry when he overheard the exchange between the doorman and the princess. When he was halted by the very same doorman, he explained that he was the guardian of the previous two young passengers and was then allowed immediate access. Soon, he found himself inquiring the chief steward for their room number which she gladly gave him along with a flirtatious wink. After numerous turns and twists through the maze of corridors, Basch finally located the room and was about to open the cabin door when Ashe beat him to it and gaped at him with disbelief.

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"My lady, what would you have to say for yourself?"

"I have nothing to say to you," she answered with a glacial tone while glaring at him pointedly, her face showing no remorse for her actions.

Basch gritted his teeth, though his expression remained stoic but his voice was intimidating, "Lady Ashe, do you understand the consequences of your disappearance? Dalmasca and Bhujerba would be thrown into an uproar when they failed to find you in Nabradia. The three countries would be conducting no less than a full-force manhunt for you which would be futile because they are unaware of your current disposition. His majesty, Lord Ash, marquis Ondore and even Lord Rasler would be extremely worried about you. Have you never considered their concern? Leaving for Nabradia on a skyferry without the company of a proper cortege is a reckless and irresponsible action, and you are putting yourself in unnecessary peril and worrying everyone. And what's worst is that you've boarded the wrong skyferry to Rozarria, how do you suppose to return then?" reprimanded Basch, his words sounding harsher than he intended.

Silence reigned within the room as the truth of Basch's words sunk in, and Ashe finally fathomed the weight of her selfish actions and the chaotic pandemonium it would ultimately lead to. She bit her lip and her dainty head drooped perilously low but she managed to hold back her tears with much self-exerted effort. She would not cry before Basch.

"None of this would have happened if Ashari had agreed to accompany me to Nabradia in the first place," she finally answered, her voice sour with bitterness.

Basch would have been surprised if the crown prince would appear any less than hysterical. He could almost picture Ashari's horror upon the discovery of the absence of his sister. No doubt, he would be screaming hysterically while galloping to the nearest airship and speeding towards Nabradia, the exact opposite direction of Ashe's current location.

"Perhaps, but you might have judged Lord Ash too harshly," he answered in a softer tone, as he noticed the normally headstrong princess was dangerously close to tears. He wanted her to understand the outcome of her rash actions but he hadn't meant to make her cry. "Escaping from the manor is not the solution."

Basch ploughed his fingers through his hair anxiously, what was done was done and there was no reason for him to chastise the princess any further. In truth, he was somewhat relieved that he trailed them onto the skyferry, as he didn't even want to consider the possibilities of what might have happened if the princess ended up in Rozarria alone. Faith in his squire he had, just not that extensive.

"I've spoken with the captain of the ship and he told me that it would be impossible to detour back to Bhujerba and we are out of transmission range, thus we couldn't inform anyone of our current predicament. There is not much that can be done for now but we'll depart for Dalmasca the instant we've landed in Rozarria." With that, he knelt down before Ashe and regarded her with a solemn expression but his voice was filled with gentleness, "My lady, please grant me permission to protect you until we've return to Dalmasca."

"I do not need your protection," she replied defiantly, not meeting his eyes.

"Nevertheless, you will receive it," replied Basch firmly, and he beckoned for Djojo to join them while he continued, "We would be landing on enemy soils, and I am not about to alert them that a member of the Dalmasca royal family is here without proper retinue. Hence, we would be journeying under an alias and we are to address each other with it, least the Rozarrian notice your presence. Lady Ashe, you'll assume the alias of Amalia and pose as my younger sister until we return to Dalmasca. And Djojo, you'll be known as Djojo."

Djojo looked offended at the idea of his identity being of no importance, while Ashe tried to muffle a chuckle.

"What about you?" asked the pair simultaneously, their young faces brimming with curiosity.

"My name will be Noah."

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Ashe woke up the next morning to find herself alone in the cabin room. She quickly glanced over to the two other beds to find them neatly-made, showing no signs of habitants and she was suddenly overcome by a surge of fear that Basch and Djojo might have abandoned her. But her baseless fear was mollified when she noticed the Lohengrin leaning at Basch's bed along with Djojo's haversack.

Rubbing her eyes groggily, she made her way to the bathroom and proceeded to clean herself. Moments later, she emerged from the bathroom feeling fresh and awake, glancing out the porthole at the blazing sunlight, she realized that it was almost noontide and that she had missed her breakfast. It was then that she noticed there were some fresh fruits and a cup of milk resting on the vanity table. Picking up the cup, she downed the drink with a single gulp, grabbed a star-shaped fruit and exited the room. The hallways and corridors were mysteriously deserted, as did the normally crowded observation parlour, even the stewards and storekeepers weren't there and it was gloomily silent. Suddenly, a thunderous cheer erupted from above and Ashe quickly climbed up the flight of stairs which led her to the scene of clamour.

She giggled at the sight which greeted her.

On the center of the spacious air deck, a tall blond knight was exchanging sword blows with a tiny moogle. Basch effortlessly evaded the incessant blows thrown at him, while giving appropriate instructions to his squire, whilst the attentive moogle listened with full concentration. Their battle feat had garnered them a large amount of spectators who were cheering wildly at their mock-battle. The men were predominantly supporting the little moogle while the women were applauding at the captain's seamless skills.

"Go for it, shorty. Get him where it hurts," someone shouted.

"Kupo, who are you calling shorty?" Djojo yelled back, he raised his fist and balled it at the impolite spectator, however his action only managed to draw further laughter from the crowd. "I am considerably tall for my kind, kupo."

"Pay attention, Djojo," chided the knight captain, giving his sheathed sword a sharp tap on the ground to show his displeasure.

"Yes, sir, kupo," answered Djojo, he brandished his sheathed dagger and readied himself.

He dashed forward and Basch met his attack valiantly, both weapons clashed. He drew back and propelled another powerful blow to Basch's left, which was blocked swiftly. Stepping back, Djojo hopped to his left and aimed for the right side of his master's torso which Basch automatically twirled to his right to defend the oncoming blow but Djojo gave a sharp turn in the end to his master's defenceless left side and Basch was forced to flick his arm back to strike his squire. Djojo predicted his reaction and he managed to dodge back to his right at the last moment and rolled behind the knight. Basch's earlier rebuttal had caused him to face the opposite direction, leaving his back precariously exposed against the coming attack. Seizing the opportunity, Djojo grasped his dagger tightly and charged, his victory a mere hands-length away when he suddenly found himself somersaulting above Basch and crashing into the audience. Apparently, Basch's final coup de grace strike was that without turning around, he swung his sword over his right shoulder to block Djojo's attack to his back. Conveniently, the sword slipped between Djojo's arms and dagger and latched itself there, and when Basch withdrew his sword over his shoulder, Djojo was lifted and catapulted over to the cushion of spectators.

"I surrender, kupo," squeaked a voice from within the crowd. Now Djojo genuinely believed that Basch had eyes at the back of his head.

Basch let out a hearty laugh and approached his squire, "Well fought, my young apprentice but you still have much to learn. For one, never attempt to attack me from the back." Wordlessly, Djojo vowed he would not attempt any time soon. The woozy moogle tried to present him an affirmative nod but ended up swaying his head sideways. Bending down, he effortlessly pulled his squire up and steadied the dizzy moogle on his feet when he spotted Ashe amongst the crowd.

"Good morning, Amalia. Did you rest well?" enquired Basch as he walked towards her whilst leading his squire, and his face broke into grin when he saw her nibbling on the fruit he had left her earlier.

"It was fine," answered Ashe gallantly, with a slight hint of cheerfulness. Her hunger satiated, her fatigue cleared, it was bright sunny day – all in all, she was in a better mood after all the catastrophic events yesterday. She saw him eyeing the fruit she was holding and she quickly chomped on the remains while blushing under his gaze, and she altered the subject by questioning him, "What are you doing?"

"Morning-training, kupo. Sir Ba… I mean Noah, insisted that we should continue our daily morning exercise even if we are on air, kupo," informed Djojo, steadying his head and flipping his dagger.

"Every drop of sweat in training is one less drop of blood in battle. There is no excuse to slack off even in our current situation," he paused when he saw Ashe's eyes transfixed to the sword he was holding. "Amalia, would you like to join us?" 

"I could?" said Ashe zealously, hardly able to contain her excitement at the offer. Correcting herself, she quickly answered indifferently, trying to hide her interest, "I mean I could if you insist."

"It would be an honour if you would join us," he answered sincerely.

Basch glanced at his mythril blade and at Djojo's dagger, and he frowned. Both weapons were unsuitable for the princess' petite hands, it would be too heavy and laborious for the princess' grasp and the crown prince's Lohengrin would be out of the question, she would be crushed under its weight. He reached out to his waist band and extracted an ornamented dagger, its scabbard was encrusted with magicite and it glinted brilliantly under the bright sun beams.

He sighed and then smiled, and handed the dagger over to the princess.

Ashe eagerly accepted the dagger though she was puzzled by the moogle's stunned expression. Even at her young age, Ashe could recognize the value of the dagger in her hands and appreciated its exquisite beauty. It didn't require a genius to figure out that the dagger was crafted with great workmanship and her heart felt strangely elated that Basch would lend her such a precious dagger to use for training.

One year ago, Ashe had implored her father to permit her to begin her arms-training but her brothers, particularly Ashari, had strictly prohibited it and persisted that she was still too young to handle weapons and she might accidentally hurt herself. Her father had then succumbed to Ashari's biased opinion – girls should not be encouraged to wield a sword – and delayed her training. After constant pestering from Ashe, King Raminas had finally conceded and proclaimed that she would start her arms-training as soon as he found her a suitable instructor. For months, the subject had never been raised again.

They walked to the center of the air deck, Ashe imitated his sword stance as best as she could, and Basch geared himself for her attack. And the battle began.

Time passed swiftly and before long, Ashe was drenched with perspiration from the strenuous activity but it did not dampen her mood. Her jejune attempts at defeating him were proven laughable, her dagger couldn't even come near to an arms-length of him – her only notable experience of sword-fighting was through various stealth observations whenever her brothers would train with Basch or the other captains – but she did manage to put up a good fight. He countered all her feeble attacks with unwavering determination and Ashe was glad that he did not provide her with any leeway and that he took their training seriously without treating it as a child's play. Their combat lingered on until the sun-drenched afternoon and it came to a sudden end when the cook of the ship – a peevish-looking Seeq – stepped in between them. Raising his mighty ladle and formidable frying pan, he banged them together deafeningly to announce to the knight, princess and the large host of passengers that it was way past lunchtime.

"Thank you," Ashe thanked him sincerely, while handing the dagger with both hands back to him.

A flicker of mild surprise leapt to Basch's face at her admission of gratitude, and was soon replaced by a brilliant smile, "You are most welcome." His eyes swept over the dagger momentarily, and he gently pushed the dagger back to her, "Keep it with you until we've returned to Dalmasca."

During their period of confinement within the skyferry, Ashe detected a few subtle details about Basch which puzzled her. Why had she not noticed it earlier? As stealthily done as it was, it did not manage to escape Ashe's silent observation. Firstly, Basch was indefatigable. Every morning, he would be gone for his monotonous morning training with his squire which Ashe had absolutely no idea when they had begun training but she suspected it was before sunrise, as she always found them soaking in sweat when she joined them.

But she had never failed to discover a glass of fresh milk and some fresh fruits lying on her vanity table every morning.

At noon, when the sun was blazing over their skins, they would retreat back either to the observation parlour or the games room where they would engage themselves in a round of chess or other board games available. She was relatively surprised to find that Basch, a man of arms, would be adept in playing various board games. Following her brother's suit, she challenged him to many rounds of chess during their time on the skyferry. Like their sword practice, he never gave her any leeway but many a times he had provided her with the opportunities to execute her newfound skills against him.

But not once did she win him, both in sword and chess.

During meals, he would provide her with lion's share of the meal – despite knowing that she would not be able to finish it – while he would satisfy himself with the leftovers. He would secretly fan her warm stew, which did not go unnoticed by Ashe, and he would never start his meal before Ashe took her first bite. His gentlemanly behaviour baffled Ashe, as her former impression of knights was that they were a bunch of boorish man with brusque mannerism and atrocious table manners.

But Basch had proven all her theories wrong.

As for night time activities, Ashe would retire early as there weren't much interesting activities during the night and she was too young to visit the sky saloon. She heard from Djojo that Basch would frequent the sky saloon in the evenings for information but Ashe had never witnessed him doing so. If he did, he must have left the room after he was assured that she was asleep and safely tucked into bed.

The name Noah sounded foreign to her tongue – to Ashe, Basch was Basch – and it seemed weird to address him otherwise but since they were travelling undercover and it seemed fun, thus she obliged willingly. She rather liked the name he chose for her, Amalia, it sounded sweet and feminine, and she briefly wondered what it meant to him. She liked her name Ashe well enough, but most people tend to confuse her with her eldest brother Ashari whom had claimed the soubriquet Ash long before her.

At the beginning of the journey, Ashe was stubbornly convinced that the trip was going to be boring and disastrous, but she was pleasantly proven wrong and soon came to enjoy the company of the amiable knight. Her opinions of Basch changed drastically through the course of their three days journey over half the world, and though she tried to retain her façade of indifference at his presence, she could feel herself warming up to his quiet and gentle demeanour.

And before their skyferry landed safely on Ambervale, Ashe underwent a complete change of heart towards the good-natured knight, a pristine feeling which Ashe was too proud to admit.

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Ambervale, the heart of Rozarria, and home to the Margrace family was a magnificent city, just as its name stated, a glorious ochre metropolis situated within a valley. A kaleidoscope of wonders, the city was crammed with grandeur and majestic architecture – from the heaven-touch skyscrapers to the reticulation of busy sky-traffic – and almost everything screamed gil. The cold-steel high constructs of Ambervale were less history-spent and lacked the ancient and warm aura which Rabanastre radiated and its people most certainly did not whisper friendly. Everyone seemed to put on airs of arrogance – in every corner there were a myriad of sartorial men, prim ladies and conceited-looking children – but, this was probably how a modern capital would have been, compared to a time-worn city.

And Basch was currently having a first-class taste of the city's sociability.

"What do you mean 50, 000 gil?" asked Basch, his handsome features fabricated into an apprehensive expression.

"I meant what I have said, sir. The flight back to Rabanastre costs 50, 000 gil per person. And it would cost 150,000 gil for three person," said the ticket man with an obnoxious tone. His snooty gaze took a stroll over Basch's simple appearance and his eyes briefly roved over at his two little companions and he added coarsely, "No discount for moogle and children."

"That's not the point, it only costs us 200 gil from Bhujerba," Basch argued, his hand gripping tightly on the hilt of his sword.

"That is because the skyferry that you've rode on earlier is from the Royal Bhujerban Company, a poor choice if I may say so," the ticket man commented, his voice buttered with a layer of mockery. "This is the finest Rozarrian airship ran by the distinguished West Ivalice Company and seeks to provide you with the best comfort, ensuring your safety during your travels."

Paying but a half-ear attention to the cocky buffoon's memorized sales pitch; Basch silently brooded over his present mishap.

There wouldn't be another flight back to the eastern continent within the next two weeks. The fare between all the destinations were the same, it was the frequency of each flight which was different. Farther destination such as Archades and Ambervale were less frequented by Bhujerban airships; and there were only two flights a month. With that, Basch came to the exasperating conclusion that the next affordable flight back to Rabanastre would be in two weeks.

He couldn't possibly wait that long.

He thought of sending a messenger to Dalmasca to relate his situation and request for backup but then he would have to notify the Rozarrians; and that was not a path he would tread. He pondered his other options which included lodging until the next possible flight or he could possibly hunt some marks and collect enough gil for their trip home. Both of the options seemed unlikely, lodging in Ambervale was extremely costly and not something that he could afford for two weeks. While hunting elite marks was a preferable choice, he wouldn't be able to conduct the assignment with the lousy supplies he had. It took them three full days to reach Rozarria by skyferry, and it would probably take them a week or more to reach Rabanastre by chocobo and if they were to wait for the next flight, it would be another two weeks plus three days travel.

"Of course, you may always use the most primitive method of travelling. Chocobo back might solve your financial problem but I feel obliged to warn you that safety is not guaranteed. The Yensa Sandsea nowadays had become a hazardous journey, infested with ferocious fiends and Urutan-Yensa, I must inform you that the notorious denizens of the Yensa Sandsea enjoy the company of weary travellers," the smug ticket man continued, his features gleamed with an overbearing sneer.

"Thus I would suggest…," he ended his speech abruptly when Basch cast him a hostile stare – one that Noah would proud of if he ever saw it – while he planted his sheathed blade on the ground. A horrified expression replaced the ticket man's egoistical one – faster than Djojo could mutter 'kupo' – when he finally noticed the two heavy swords that Basch was concealing.

"Never mind," Basch muttered as he trudged away from the terrified man. His princess and squire trailed behind him while struggling with supreme effort to suppress their laughter at the man's reaction towards Basch's wrath. "Daylight-robbers."

The Dalmasca trio sauntered through the posh streets of Ambervale, they seemed and felt visibly out of place. An armed moogle, a finely-dressed petite girl and a stoic man holding two swords wasn't a common view in Ambervale or any part of Ivalice – maybe Balfonheim port could be an exception but that was because that sky-pirate-infested port attracted all sorts of bizarre folks. Their ternion camaraderie was earning strange glances from the crowd and after passing a third rich couple who shed them a furtive peek and whispered nasty words behind their back, Basch decided that it would be unwise for him to continue his task with the company of his two young charge. Thus, he left the princess and his squire at a less-crowded square and headed straight for the nearest armoury.

As of norm, Basch wouldn't even envisage himself selling royal possessions but desperate times called for desperate measures and he reluctantly broke his own conduct by selling the crown prince's Lohengrin. He just hoped that the prince would be kind enough to overlook this aspect when he returned to Dalmasca with the princess safely.

Recounting the gil in his hand, he was highly doubtful that they would make it back to Dalmasca with the meagre amount of gil he now possessed. Even travelling on chocobo back would require a substantial fee and he still had to take into the consideration of the supplies they would need. Alone, he wouldn't mind travelling across the heavily-guarded Rozarrian borders and the ever-scorching Yensa Sandsea but he had a young charge to care for and he feared that Ashe might not be able to withstand the complications of voyaging through the vast distance between Ambervale and Rabanastre.

He put the coins back into his pouch, fastened the knot and made a beeline to the fountain where he had left the princess and squire. He released a relieved sigh when he found them gazing in awe at the colossal fountain and he was glad they didn't wander off on their own. The last thing he needed now was to conduct a one-man search party in the vast city. From a distance, he saw them backtracking away from tall edifice to gain a better view; unaware that there was someone behind them, both collided into the unwary person causing the young man's sunglasses to fall. Djojo skittered forward to retrieve the glasses and gave it to Ashe who took out a handkerchief and wiped off the grim, she then presented the glasses back to the young man apologetically. The young man recovered his glasses graciously and proceeded to pat the princess' head when Ashe sighted Basch. Before the man's hand could come in contact with the princess' fair head, she had side-stepped and ran towards the knight captain with Djojo following closely behind her.

"Is everything all right?" asked Ashe with a concerned tone when she saw Basch's grave expression.

Sensing their discomfort and not wanting to burden them with the unsettling circumstances, he erased his grimace and donned a forced smile. "I am afraid we'll have to travel by foot, the fare to return back to Dalmasca by air is too expensive and I do not have enough gil to accommodate the three of us. I shall seek the Chocobo wrangler at once and gather the necessary provisions for our return."

They both nodded, even at their young age, they could comprehend the reality of their troubling disposition. With silent consensus, they turned away from the piazza and started walking away.

"Excuse me, but perhaps, I may be of some assistance," enquired a cultured-tone voice. The trio turned around to find themselves face-to-face with a dandily-dressed gangly teenager with a pair of huge sunglasses which covered almost half his face – the same man which Ashe and Djojo had accidentally collided into earlier.

Basch was partial to the idea of being eavesdropped on – especially when they were trying to conceal their identity in this foreign land – and he eyed the intruder inquisitively. He was ready to cross his arms and inquire the stranger's purpose when he felt Ashe's little hand slipped into his own.

"I overheard your conversation and I can't help but be saddened by your distressing plight. From your foreign appearances, I reckon you are Dalmascans who are unfamiliar with local terrain. Hence, I can assure you that the passage across the Rozarria borders is no leisure cruise on chocobo back. You won't be able to journey far with a child and moogle. Might I offer you a free ride back to the Nam-Yensa on my private carriage?" he continued.

"What have you to gain?" asked Basch, his tone clearly painted with suspicion at the unusual offer.

"To show you the same courtesy you've shown me," he joked, as he tapped the rim of his sunglasses and lowered it to reveal his deep startling black eyes. Straightening, he explained, and his voice took on a sincere tone, "Honestly, I mean no harm. We are heading towards the same direction and I thought of offering you and your companions a lift, I would much appreciate the company, and you would receive a free ride. A fair exchange, nothing more. My journey ends at the oil construct in Nam-Yensa as I have some important business to attend there and I would travel no further. You may then continue your trip to Dalmasca on chocobo back."

It would be advisable to take this stranger's offer, even if the proffered ride would only bring them back to the Sandsea. This nosy stranger didn't seem harmful – despite a little chary-looking with his secretary and those weird sunglasses – but, he did seem rather honest with his proposal and Basch's doubt began to subside. Well, beggars couldn't be choosers. He'd just have to trust his instinct and this stranger, for now.

"We will partake in your generous offer, sir… How should we address you?" enquired Basch congenially.

"Tsk… names and titles mean nothing to me. Al-Cid, at your service" remarked the young man suavely, as he took off his sunglasses and handed it to the lady beside him.

"You have my thanks. I am Noah, this is my sister, Amalia and that is our friend, Djojo," introduced Basch, in a cordial tone to their new companion, as he performed a curt bow which Djojo mimicked expertly.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, sir," Ashe said courteously and dropped into a light curtsy. A princess must always observe proper etiquette, she reminded herself.

"The pleasure is all mine," Al-Cid returned charmingly. He suddenly knelt down and took Ashe's hand into his and placed a light kiss on it. Blushing, Ashe quickly retrieved her hand from his grasp and slipped behind Basch. Her childlike reaction earned a throaty laugh from the brazen teenager and Basch's brows creased into a light frown. "Let us proceed to our carriage and begin our journey, shall we?"

Once again, he felt Ashe's hand laced with his own, and this time, he responded by tightening his grip to reassure her.

As the party of four made their way to the carriage, Al-Cid had turned his attention back to Basch once more, whilst not breaking his stride.

"Say Noah, do you play chess?"

_To be continued…_


End file.
